Hurt by the Father, Saved by the Enemy
by mahniindustry
Summary: Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This is my first HP fan-fic and I'm sorry for any OOC-niss that any characters may have. This fanfic contains mild Dramione (Draco and Hermione) a one sided!Drarry!Rape, also a bad!Dumbledore with the final touch of abused!Draco. So Hermione and Harry find out Draco's secret and want to help him. ON HIATUS UNTIL SUMMER
1. Chapter 1

Hurt by the Father, Saved by the Enemy

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (duh). This is my first HP fan-fic and I'm sorry for any OOC-niss that any characters may have. This fanfic contains Dramione (Draco and Hermione) a one sided!Drarry!Rape, also a bad!Dumbledore with the final touch of abused!Draco. Doesn't this story sound like fun?

Hermione Granger entered the astrology tower, staring at the night sky, lost in her thoughts. Gasps of pain, someone struggling for breath, wretched her from them, causing her the twist her body as to catch a glimpse of the pained individual.

She saw a hunched figure, head leaning back, knees drawn to his chest, pained moans were ripped from his lips, the red standing out from his alabaster skin.

"Sh, hey your going to be okay," She repeated softly while slowly inching closer to the hurt blonde, similar to how one approaches a wounded creature. Slowly silver gray eyes opened, tracking her every movement, wary of being caught off guard so many numerous times.

Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin prince frantically dragged the heel of his hand across his eyes, wiping any left overs of his salty tears that stained his cheeks. He mentally berated himself for showing weakness: Malfoys _DO NOT_ cry.

She had gotten closer, arms out reached, moving to place a calming hand on his shoulder, except she failed to notice the fear that plagued the molten silver orbs.

Draco was panicking, he now regretted cowering in a corner. It seemed such a good place at the time, all sides protected from an attack, but now he was backed into it while to hands came devastatingly closer. 'No, no, no, no,' continuously looped through his head, coupled with a chant of 'too close'.

"Pl-please st-stop" the 15-year old whimpered, expecting a blow to land. He frantically pushed himself into the wall, as if he could merge with it given enough pressure.

The bushy haired Gryffindor stopped at this, where was the snarky vindictive git that called her Mudblood? 'Something's hurt him.' 'Badly', she thought detachedly, her mind rejecting the scenario that was laid out before her. "What happened?" slipped unbidden from her pursed lips, and released into the tension filled air.

"I-I f-fell off my broom while practicing for the quidditch tournament." Came his reply, he tucked his chin to his chest, forehead resting on his knees, and one arm wrapped protectively around his head, the other clutched his side. Draco moaned low in his throat in pain and clutched his side tighter. Another wave of pain crashed into the blonde, and the white-hot pain shot up his side even though the pain originated from his broken ribs.

Hermione was not blind to such a blatantly obvious display of pain, and it seemed to be-by the clutching hand- from his ribs.

"Do you need me to heal those?" She asked, pointing to his hand, when those eyes were covered by pale skin, he nodded.

Draco's glamour charm was almost never needed as much as it did at the moment Hermione told him he needed to take off his shirt. He closed his eyes once more; not wanting to see the perfect skin taunting him, knowing that it just hid ugly bruises of purple and yellowish-green, and red ugly lines of healing cuts, and the smooth whiter scars that littered his chest and back, angry welts from after a good whipping.

Had Draco's eyes been open, he would have known the pitying look Granger gave him right before she whispered, "episky". He would've known she had gone to see his back, where scars crisscrossed over each other, where the cane and whip had hit him so many times over his life.

A gasp escaped her hand-covered mouth, her eyes wide with shock, his back was a mess, and when she lightly traced a scar, Draco's eyes snapped open. He grabbed his shirt, a whirlwind of motion as he slipped on the white fabric, neatening his hair and straightening out his clothes.

Once more his icy mask slid over his face. A customary sneer in place, cold, emotionless, nothing like the scared boy she saw earlier, and then she saw a crack, a chip in his armor of ice. His eyes, there was an emotion no Malfoy (or anyone else) should have, an emotion so raw it was scary. Fear.

"Don't tell anyone. Not about the scars nor the broken ribs," he snarled.

Much to her surprise this didn't frustrate or anger her. Maybe it was because she understood that this was his survival strategy, become the Malfoy he was. 'Or made?' but she shook that notion from her brain, 'if taught young enough it's natural' she offered her doubting thoughts.

"He'll kill me! He'll kill me if he found out" Malfoy whispered, and she promised not to tell anyone, and then, he was off.


	2. Chapter 2

Hurt by the Father, Saved by the Enemy

The next day Hermione paid extra attention to the Slytherin Price. He ate only half a toast, mostly pushing the pieces around. Draco would sneakily eat a piece or two, and then scattering the pieces, creating the illusion of an eaten meal.

" 'Mione don't you agree?" Harry asked, a concerned look sparkling in his eyes. Hermione almost never is lost so deep in her thoughts that she missed an entire conversation. "I asked if you thought if Malfoy was a death-eater," Harry repeated himself.

A frown flickered over the bushy haired girl, " I already told you, I don't know what I saw," Hermione scolded.

Draco sat slumped between Pansy, who was trying to coax him into eating, and Blaise, who was trying to do the same.

"Draco, you have to eat more," Pansy was really worried about her best friend, he seemed more broken than last time, the fight had left him, leaving his eyes dull and stony.

A proud gray owl, that the blonde had never seen before, had landed before the boy, the leg with a message was stuck out. With cautious movements, he untied the note and read it.

'Meet me at the astronomy tower at 8 pm

HG'

"HG?" Draco thought to himself, 'Hermione Granger' his mind supplied.

As soon as dinner ended, off was the young Slytherin. He cast a tempus, only ten minutes 'till 8, only ten more minutes until meeting Hermione. He walked down the halls, and climbed up the stairs. By the time he reached the top, Hermione was found seated in a chair she transfigured.

"What do you want Granger?" Draco snarled, a sneer contorting his pointy features.

"I want to talk about what I found on your back yesterday." Hermione was gentle enough so Draco didn't see her as a threat, but still firm enough that he knows that the subject couldn't be changed.

Draco picked up on her tone; he knew he was in trouble now. Is lungs seemed to shrink, his throat constricted, his heart hammering. It seemed no matter how hard he tried to even out his breathing, there was never enough oxygen. His blacked clothed knees hit the ground. His own pale arms wrapped around his shoulders, giving himself a hug.

"Draco!" a furious voice sounded. And not a moment later The-Boy-Who-Lived burst through the door.

Harry had used the Marauder's Map to find the two in the astronomy tower. The emerald eyed boy had rushed to save his friend, but that wasn't the way things went.


	3. Chapter 3

Hurt by the Father, Saved by the Enemy

Draco, at Harry's yell had been thrown back into his 'Malfoy Manor' mode as he called it. All he could see was Lucius' body, his platinum blonde hair and cold eyes, so much like his own. The words reached his ears, but instead of Harry's voice, it was the silky bored drawl of the elder Malfoy.

The results were instantaneous, Draco's breathing evened, and it seemed as if the panic attack never occurred. And the boy stood, back straight, perfection.

"Yes sir?" Draco asked, a scared tone, no one should be as scared as Draco was, you could see the fear pool in his eyes, turning gray stone into silver mercury.

Draco flinched as Harry yelled, but as the raven-haired boy was consumed by rage, he missed it.

And fist connected with stomach.

A stomach that had a large bruise; the stomach that hadn't the chance to heal from all the previous kicks sent its way, from when Lucius visited.

Draco didn't fight back, he just curled into a ball, 'you just need to survive the beating' Draco thought. And then a pain ripped through his back, and he felt a sticky liquid that could only be one thing; blood.

"Draco?" Hermione called, her fight to stop Harry was futile and the scabs she saw on Draco's back yesterday had ripped open.

Harry, there was shock on his face and worry in his eyes, looked at the bleeding and whimpering boy. This obviously wasn't Malfoy, but maybe a secret and guarded Draco?


	4. Chapter 4

Hurt by the Father, Saved by the Enemy

Masculine hands had clamped around his upper arm, dragging him up, but he tried pulling away. He let a yelp of fear and pain pass through his lips as pain, from straightening his back, flooded his senses.

"Please sir, I won't associate with mudbloods again, just let me go," he pleaded, sure that a crucio would come his way.

The grip was released and a pair of feminine hands had replaced it. 'Mother' Draco thought, 'she'd take care of my injuries'.

As much as Narcissa didn't interfere with the beatings, out of fear granted, she always cleaned her boy up, and Draco knew she loved him to some degree, either as an heir who will carry on the family name, or as her son, who she carried in her womb for 9 months.

Her familiar brown hai-'brown?' Draco thought, breaking out of his reverie, and looked into emerald green eyes that were filled concern. And Hermione's arms encircled his head, clutching it to her chest, comforting him. Draco could hear incantations being muttered from behind him. Draco flinched, pulling away after, but she held her grip, not letting him escape the wrath of the potential hex or curse.

Hermione noticed how he panicked at not knowing which spells were being used. "Sh, Harry is going to clean up the blood on your shirt and floor."

Draco looked a bit more vulnerable, as he trusted them, but then it was as if he was about to say something when he frowned. "You won't tell anyone will you?"

He couldn't trust anyone, obviously not the people in front of hi, his enemies, people who would stab him in the back, who would be his downfall. And yet, here they were, helping him, making sure he was okay. Maybe, just maybe, … they weren't enemies anymore.


End file.
